


I Regret to Inform You....

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [99]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Other, Social Media, intimidation tactics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: Dear GabrielAziraphale paused, chewing on his lower lip, and leaned back a little in his office chair, contemplating his next words
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Warlock Dowling, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [99]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 62
Kudos: 1004
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	I Regret to Inform You....

_Dear Gabriel_

_I regret to inform you that someone has been using your name to spread lies and slander which, as you are no doubt aware, is both a sin and not in service to the greater good._

Aziraphale paused, chewing on his lower lip, and leaned back a little in his office chair to contemplate his next words. Then he resumed typing slowly, so that the nervous trembling in his hands wouldn't cause him to hit the wrong keys.

_With all due respect, I'm sure you can see how this could be held as violating the restrictions on interacting with us by any respecting lawyer. I therefore recommend..._

He hesitated, closing his eyes and muttering an old quote under his breath for reassuarance. He could call Crowley, but Crowley was never much of a one for written words. Not to be wondered at, of course, with them being such a pain for him, but Aziraphale doubted he'd be able to help with anything other than comfort. He put in his recommendations carefully, and with the same level of politeness as the rest of the email, finishing:

_Regards_

_Aziraphale Fell_

It took him a long, shaky, moment to recover enough to hit "send" and wait for his aging computer to process the request. Then, because he also knew all too well how Gabriel was likely to react, he plugged his phone into the computer and set up both the audio (for direct listening) and the speech-to-text program (for a transcript) to record and post it in less used channels of the main online chat server. He was going to need all the witnesses he could get when Gabriel called. Anyone _could_ access those channels, but nobody was likely to have Gabriel inflicted on them by accident.

Sure enough, only a few minutes after he finished setting it up, the phone rang and caller ID told him it was, as expected, Gabriel.

He swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and pressed the answer button. "Gabriel!" he said, and for a wonder, his voice didn't shake. "What can I do for you today?"

Gabriel, naturally, didn't waste any time on pleasantries. He started with, "Don't talk to me about the greater good, sunshine!" and went downhill from there.

Aziraphale did his best to tune it out, only checking that his phone set up was working as he desired. (It was) What he couldn't ignore was the way people were suddenly swarming into the chat, clearly having found out what was happening and wanting to see for themselves. He felt sick at the sight, even though his hopes for it were being outstripped by far, with all these young people having to hear this horribleness directed at him. Gabriel was laying all his perceived faults and flaws bare, castigating every single one of them, while Aziraphale shuddered physically under the verbal lash and only managed to interject the occasional, calm-sounding, phrase. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I couldn't possibly comment. I haven't been... You can't do that...."

Gabriel finally sneered, "Who would everybody believe anyway? Me, or some useless fuddy-duddy who can't even find clothes that fit this century?" He hung up.

Onscreen, a new line popped up almost at once.

NotAChocolateWar: I believe Dr Fell!

A second person echoed it, then a third, and then it snowballed into an avalanche of belief and support drowning out everything else, while Aziraphale stared at it and tears rolled silently down his cheeks. Even in his wildest dreams, he wouldn't have conceived of that response. He'd tried to unlearn the things Gabriel had always told him, with Crowley's help, but a small battered part of him had never been able to be sure that there wasn't some grain of truth at the heart of it all.

 _Crowley_. He should let him know immediately, before Gabriel came storming down to the greenhouse in person.

Aziraphale dried his tears, pulled on his perpetually pleasant mask, and left his office as if nothing had happened.


End file.
